Page:Love Poems and Others.djvu/76

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Not all for them shall the fires of my life be hot,
For myself a heap of ashes of weariness, till sleep
Shall have raked the embers clear: I will keep
Some of my strength for myself, for if I should sell
It all for them, I should hate them—
    —I will sit and wait for the bell.

Turnbull and Spears, Printers, Edinburgh

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